Match Point
by wyldcat
Summary: Mild slash TenMaster. They have been playing for so long, and he knew he was breaking every rule in the book when he typed in those coordinates, but the Doctor wanted to see, needed to see him smiling, confident, charming and alive again no matter what.


Warnings/spoilers: SLASH. Ten/Simm!Master. If you don't like it, then go. Also, spoilers for Last of the Time Lords, and possibly series 4 casting if you've really been out of the loop…

Summary: They have been playing for so long, and he knew he was breaking every rule in the book when he typed in those coordinates, but the Doctor wanted to see, needed to see him smiling, confident, charming and alive again no matter what.

Disclaimer: don't own.

A/N: This isn't the first slash fic I've written, but it's the first one I'm posting, and even then it's not that good… Anyway, _huge_ thank you to Petty Insanity for the fic title, summary and critiquing stuff, like the ending. You are super-duper awesome, always. :D

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**Match Point**

He knew this was a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea, and yet he can't take his eyes off him where he's standing on the podium, speaking to the crowds gathered at his feet. He's funny, cheerful, confident, absolutely assured of himself. Archangel Network or not, no wonder everyone liked him.

"Blimey, that's the Prime Minister, isn't it?"

Startled, the Doctor turned to find Donna suddenly beside him. "What are you doing here?" the Doctor hissed urgently in her ear. "I thought I told you to stay in the TARDIS! You might –"

"– meet another version of myself. I heard you, Doctor, six times already. Just so you know, I'm on the other side of the crowd. Nothing to worry about."

The Doctor sighed and looked skyward. "Fine," he relented. "Have it your way."

Donna smiled and made herself comfortable, because judging from the way the Doctor stared at the Prime Minister she doubted he'd move anytime soon.

His speech was awfully boring to hear the second time round, so midway through his grand proclamation about something or other she leaned over surreptitiously and said, "What happened to him? Like, he was on the telly one minute, then –"

"Donna!" He tore his eyes away from the front for a split second. "Not now!"

"…fine," she replied sulkily.

After a few moments she looked sideways at him. The Doctor was completely absorbed in the speech, and she wondered for the hundredth time _why_ they had come here to this specific place and time. There really wasn't anything special about it. Just Mr Saxon making a rousing speech that didn't seem all that rousing now.

After a moment she realised that the Doctor wasn't even listening to the speech. He was just standing there with a slightly glazed look in his eyes. She wondered if she could wave her hand up and down in front of his face without him noticing.

A roar of appreciation suddenly went up from the throng as Mr Saxon finished, beaming around at everyone. Then he turned his head slightly and looked straight at her. No, not at her. The Doctor.

He stood frozen, absolutely stock still and in silent communication with the other man standing up at the front on the stage. The man's grin widened, a hungry, eager look on his face, daring the Doctor to look away first. Donna was sure the exchange took less than a second but it seemed so much longer.

"Come on," said the Doctor abruptly and grabbed her hand, pushing away and out of the crowd surging forward to shake hands with the Prime Minister-to-be now walking down the red carpeted aisle.

"So go on then," Donna started again when they were far from the crowds. "What happened to Mr Saxon?"

"Later, Donna." He didn't even spare her a glance but continued to walk ahead at an unusually fast pace.

"But it's quiet. There's no one around to hear us."

"No. It doesn't matter anyway."

"Oi!" She moved in front of him and poked him hard in the chest. "Don't give me that rubbish! Don't think I don't notice, because you're clearly avoiding me!"

He rounded on her. "So what if I am?"

They glared at each other for a moment, then Donna's gaze softened. "What's put you in such a bad mood? You're not usually like this."

He studied his shoes intensely. "Sorry. He just brings out the worst in me, I suppose."

"Aww I'm flattered, Doctor. Really flattered."

They both whirled around at the new voice and casually, the Master stepped out from around the corner. "Second time we meet, how lovely. Or…" he frowned at Donna. "Maybe not?"

The Doctor nodded stiffly.

"Ah, you're from the future. Interesting."

"Donna," he said quietly, "Go back to the TARDIS."

"But –"

His voice took on a hard edge. "I mean it this time."

Slowly, she nodded and hurried past the Master, leaving the two Time Lords alone.

"So…breaking the First Law of Time, Doctor. I'm so honoured. How is the future?"

"Second Law," he reminded him.

"Oh yes, of course. It must be important though, for you to risk coming back here."

"I wasn't planning to talk to you."

"But you were hoping, weren't you? Staring at me for my entire speech. You're such a confidence booster."

"Always was."

They stood in static, crackling silence for long moments, the Doctor taking the opportunity to drink in the presence that said he wasn't alone anymore. Suddenly the Master threw back his head and laughed. "Such a perv, Doctor. Tsk tsk."

The Doctor flushed slightly.

"Do you remember the end of the universe?" the Master observed after another bout of silence. "Meeting you there was enlightening, to say the very least. Quite literally at times too…oh, that's a pun! Get it? Yes? No…?" His features formed petulant expression when the Doctor didn't react more than raising his eyebrows.

"You know, I really thought you'd be more forthcoming," the Master then continued, undeterred. "This regeneration seems the type to talk. A lot. Maybe even too much."

The Doctor shrugged. "Sometimes."

The Master tapped his foot impatiently against the concrete, waiting for the Doctor to do something, _anything_. "Fine!" he exclaimed at last. "I'll start the real and proper conversation, shall I? Hmm, I know!" A gleeful smile appeared on his face. "I'll be the interviewer, you'll be the interviewee. So!" He mimed talking into a microphone. "How does it feel to blow up Gallifrey and all its people, and how does it feel to have me around to laugh at your misery?"

He held the microphone out under the Doctor's nose and he unwittingly cracked a smile. "Starting with the tough questions, don't you think?" he asked, forcing lightness into his tone.

"Well, it's my job to make you squirm. Anything related to Gallifrey and all those dusty old Time Lords should do that. Am I right or am I right?"

"Wrong," the Doctor replied as evenly as possible.

"Ah, well, they deserved to die. They were really quite useless. All that loitering around in endless meetings about 'we should do something about those Daleks!' but never quite getting around to it. Not even you. Don't you regret it now? You were always incapable of making decisions and look where that got you. Oh, and Romana! I thought she'd know better – after all, she was our _dear_ Lady President – but no, she was just as bad as you in the end. Shame. Another useless Time Lord." He looked expectantly at the Doctor but the only sign of anger was the slight tenseness in his shoulders.

The Master pushed on.

"What was it like, Doctor? Watching Gallifrey burn. It must have been beautiful. All that fire, the smoke, the dying screams of our people and the Daleks… Was it like music, Doctor?"

"They should've gotten you to do it," the Doctor said tightly.

"Ah, but I was a universe away, staying alive so that I could come back and keep you company. Aren't I nice?"

"You used to be."

"When we were kids, you mean."

"Yes."

The Master laughed. "I wasn't nice to you. I hardly paid you any attention."

"Explain what happened that day outside the Citadel then."

"Marginal attention," he dismissed. "It always was. Sorry. No, not really, just kidding. But then we went our separate ways –"

"– and you tried to take over worlds –"

"– _galaxies_, Doctor, even the whole universe, but only for you. Every single plan of mine involved you, did you know? Or were you too thick to see that?"

"I don't need a present in the form of a terrorised planet with the entire population enslaved, thanks."

"But you like it, don't you? It's how it's always been with us. A game across the stars, just to keep you busy because when you get restless…" He stepped closer, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Is that why you're here now? Am I not playing the game in the future?"

The Doctor swallowed thickly. "You could say that."

"I'll have to make it up to you then."

Without warning he brushed his lips against the Doctor's, only managing to get that far before he backed away hurriedly. The Master mockingly tilted his head to one side. "What's wrong?"

"No," he said shakily. "We can't."

"Why not?" the Master challenged.

"Because…" He floundered for a moment. "Everything we had, back then…it's over."

"So?" replied the Master, a slow smile spreading across his face that irritated the Doctor further.

"It's in the past now! Just leave it!"

"Why not start anew then?"

"No. We can't." His voice took on a pleading note. "We just…_can't_."

"You don't really have a reason, do you?" Unsmiling now, he advanced, forcing the Doctor back until he hit the wall behind him. "The rules change all the time," he told him condescendingly.

"I know, but…"

He silenced him with a single finger to his lips and moved closer, effectively trapping him against the hard concrete surface. They were inches away now, practically breathing in the same air. "Nowhere left to run, Doctor. Don't be afraid," he murmured and plunged his tongue into his mouth, forcing it open wider and coaxing a response. The Doctor's eyelids fluttered closed after a moment and he sank against the wall, relaxing into the Master's embrace until he seemed to remember himself and pulled away. "Stop it," he said faintly, squirming to get out.

"Stop what?" the Master asked innocently while pressing against him harder.

"This."

"Why? You want it as much as I do, and there really isn't anything stopping us. No Time Lords, no Romana, no crazy homophobes…" He reached up and twisted his fingers in his unruly hair, tilting his head down and drinking in those large, impossibly dark eyes watching him fervently. "Go on," he whispered.

There was a tiny, split second of hesitation before he finally gave in, and Rassilon, the Master _loved every second of it_. Something must have happened to make him this rash. Through the haze of lust his curiosity began to build until it was unbearable, so as he deepened the kiss he connected with the Doctor's mind.

And almost leapt straight back out. Almost.

It had changed so much since he had last seen it. The brightness had all but gone and the dark was oppressive, tasting and feeling like murk pulling him down. It was almost as bad as the drums. Then memories began to flash past, mostly of them when they were younger. Well, that was to be expected – he _was_ kissing him after all.

He delved further, looking for the Time War and that particular day when it all ended. Flashes of the mountains burning, the sky raining fire, the grass being painted red over and over again, and there was him…so many memories of them, some he didn't recognise and some he did, and then…

Everything began to blur, so fast that the Master could barely keep up. Brief images imprinted in his own mind and emotions flooded his being – rage, pain, hate, guilt, regret, despair, loneliness…he wrapped himself in it and it quietened the drums and it was absolutely wonderful, and then –

Reality slammed back into him. The moment was gone.

The Doctor drew a deep, shuddering breath that seemed impossibly loud in the sudden silence. "Did you like what you saw?" he asked softly.

"Loved it."

He pressed his forehead against his. "Why can't you take it all away?" he whispered.

The Master shook his head and kissed him again, gently this time. "Where would be the fun in that?" he said. "I like it when you're sad; especially when it's because of me."

"Oh, you arrogant prick." He punched him half-heartedly.

"Same to you."

He held him tightly, breathing in his scent and blinking away the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes. But he couldn't stay.

He pulled away reluctantly and the Master immediately pouted. "Don't," the Doctor said, trying to sound stern. "You've already made this hard enough for me."

"Thank you. I enjoy doing that."

The Doctor stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. After a long moment he took a deep breath and began hesitantly, "Master…"

"Oh, I love it when you use my name," he quickly said, fearing what mushy crap might come out of his mouth at any moment. "I really do." Then he lightly brushed his fingers against his temples and the Doctor slipped into unconsciousness.

oOo

Someone was slapping him. And yelling in his face. Brilliant combination.

He groaned, sluggishly waving away the face hovering in his blurred vision and attempted to go back to sleep. Only, the voice wasn't letting him.

"Stop it," he mumbled, "You're giving me a headache."

"Good!" Donna said, progressively getting louder and shriller with each sentence. "Because you deserve it! I mean, snogging the Prime Minister! Snogging him and then getting knocked out!"

"Ooh, that sounds particularly bad…" He suddenly jerked upright and looked around wildly. "Where is he? Where's the Master?"

"He's gone. 'Bout half an hour ago."

The Doctor sighed and flopped backwards again, staring unseeingly at the sky overhead.

"And you're not going to find him again," Donna said firmly.

"'Course not."

"Good. And just so you know…I was sort of…watching you two. I mean, I wanted to make sure you were safe and I swear I didn't see or hear anything; well, not much anyway," she said in a rush. "I hope you don't mind."

"Nah," he said, waving her off.

"Oh. That's good then."

He then lifted his head slightly. "Am I lying on a bench?"

"Yeah. He put you here."

"I have cobwebs in my hair, don't I?"

"…how did you know that?"

He gave her a tiny grin. "Easily."

"Doctor," she said after a moment, "who is he, really?"

"You heard," he replied evasively. "The Master."

"I know that, but what's he to you?"

He shrugged. "Lots of things. It's complicated."

"He's your friend, right? That's why you went back to see him?"

"He's…sort of a friend." At a slightly raised hand from Donna, he hurriedly elaborated. "Well, if you consider that he took control and enslaved the Earth's population for a year, then no, he's not a friend. Then again, that year didn't really happen since we reversed the paradox …"

"What happened to him though? The Master?"

"He died," the Doctor said tonelessly.

"But…that's all right, isn't it? I mean, he was your enemy."

He sighed. "It's not that simple, Donna."

"You still won though." A distant, quiet look appeared in his eyes and suddenly Donna began to get apprehensive. "Doctor? You did win, didn't you?"

Suddenly he swung to his feet and brushed past her almost brusquely, only stopping when he was past the line of trees bordering the edge of the rippling, grassy lawn. Behind him he could sense Donna's worry but he didn't take his eyes off the distant outlines of London.

Somewhere out there the Master was still alive, drinking tea and watching TV while chuckling at his misfortune with cobwebs or something equally daft. Lucky him. In a week he'd meet the Doctor again and then they would play the game like always, but for the first and last time the Master would actually _win_.

And he couldn't change that.

"Come on, Donna," he said heavily. "Let's go."

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Review please? 


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